“Every time you walk into this room, it feels less like a shift change and more like life is coming back to me. I wait for your soothing voice and your light laughs when you’re not around. Hell, even the sound of you walking past in the hallway makes me breathe easier.”
The words leave me stripped bare. My chest feels tight, like I’ve taken a hit straight there, only this time I dealt it to myself. I don’t know if she’ll accept what I said or if I’ve ruined the one steady thing I have in this place.
Ivy sucks in a shaky breath, and I swear I can hear the way her composure cracks. When she speaks, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You don’t know how much it means to hear that.”
“Then you should give me a chance to understand how much. I have no idea, so please tell me.”
Her protest follows quickly. “Did you forget that I’m your nurse, Teddy? There are boundaries, ethics, bonding over trauma?—”
“What the fuck do you mean bonding over trauma?” I snap before I can stop myself.
“It’s when a connection forms because of intense circumstances. The brain confuses safety with attachment.” She explains, the words faltering, but all I hear is the fear beneath it. “Maybe these feelings are stronger because I’ve helped you through something traumatic.”
Oh, so this is how she wants to play this out. “So you think this is fake?”
“No!” she blurts out, her voice breaking. “I think what I’m feeling scares me, that’s all. Because it’s real when it shouldn’t be.”
“Then stop worrying about what it’s called and just be here with me. We can figure this out together.”
There’s a shift in her steps before she sits on the edge of the bed. Her hand brushes mine, and I grab it instantly, holding on like I’ve been wanting all this time.
“Okay, but I have to step away from your care team.”
“Why? It won’t be that long anyway before I’m leaving for rehab.”
She huffs, clearly annoyed. “You deserve someone who can treat you without bias. I can’t be objective anymore. Not when every part of me is starting to caretoomuch.”
“So you’d walk away?”
“I’d still be here, just not officially in charge of you.”
She truly believes stepping away from my care team is the best solution. The thought of losing her presence, even in the smallest routines, feels unbearable. I sit in silence, thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“And how do you feel about it?” I ask, wanting to know if she feels even close to how I do.
“I hate the idea of not seeing you every time I’m at work. When I’m away, I can’t stop thinking about you—your disarming laugh, your stories, the perfect way your hand fits in mine, and how you make me feel truly seen. It’s hard to explain exactly what you mean to me, but whatever it is, my feelings keep growing daily.”
The ground shifts under me with her heartfelt words. “Then kiss me,” I dare, my heart pounding. “Kiss me and mean every second of it.”
“I want to. But I’m at my work,” she says hesitantly.
A half-smile tugs at my lips. “I don’t see the problem when I’m the one suggesting it.”
“Theodore—”
“Kiss me, Ivy.” My grip on her hand tightens, every word vibrating with unfiltered need. “Before I lose my mind.”
She faintly brushes her thumb over my knuckles. It’s enough to make my pulse trip over itself. Then something beautiful happens.
Ivy finally says, “fuck it”, and presses closer. The mattress dips beneath her weight as heat radiates from her body. It seeps into mine, erasing the last inches between us. Her breath ghosts across my face—warm, shaky, and impossibly close. Tilting my chin up, I search for her lips, and then she’s right there.
For a heartbeat, the world narrows to nothing but the consuming touch of our mouths. The kiss isn’t tentative. It’s a collision, hungry and inevitable, like we’ve both been waiting for this breaking point. Her lips crash into mine, and heatsparks across every nerve in my body, a live wire surging through me. Her lip ring is foreign, yet sexy, against my skin. I kiss her back with everything I’ve been holding in—anger, longing and relief—like the only way to survive is to give my all to her.
A hand cups my cheek, tender where our mouths are frantic. My fingers slip into her soft hair and I pull her to me, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world disappears. It’s just us, breathing the same air and clinging to the same impossible hope. The kiss carries her laugh, her fire, and the stubbornness that’s kept me going when I wanted to give up. It’s everything I wished for and more.
When we finally break apart, our breaths tangle in the narrow space between us. She rests her forehead against mine, and my thumb moves over her cheek, reluctant to let her go. My whole body thrums with aftershocks, like I’ve been lit up from the inside out.
“Damn, if I knew how alive that would make me feel, I would’ve kissed you days ago,” I rasp, voice rougher than I intend. My lips still tingle from the kiss, my chest heaving like I’ve just finished a sprint.
